


i never liked the quiet before

by kelpies



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 03:32:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6888166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelpies/pseuds/kelpies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Steve sleeps with Bucky, it's not really sleeping at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i never liked the quiet before

The first time Steve sleeps with Bucky, it's not really sleeping at all.

Bucky had showed up in his room at half two, shivering with cold. Steve had closed the door behind him and led him into the bed, sitting in the chair beside the dresser and watching him, waiting for him to speak first. When he does talk, he rasps it out, the words tumbling over themselves in their haste. 

"I was in Sokovia in the nineties and I killed a six-year-old girl because her father was a state enemy. I watched her die and I enjoyed it because I knew I was doing the right thing and I could go back and be rewarded. I slit her mother's throat because I wanted to, because she saw me and that's a liability. I watched as he came home to see his whole family slaughtered and he wept and I laughed, do you know that? I laughed and then I left. And they never let me forget it, they never let me forget any of them, and I didn't care, I enjoyed it." There are tears in his eyes, and it's tearing Steve apart to listen, but he knows it's what Bucky needs, so he swallows the lump in his throat and doesn't let his eyes waver from Bucky's face. "I keep thinking about the Starks. I knew when I saw Tony that I did it, and I had to keep quiet, because he would have killed me, and I would have deserved it, but he didn't know, and then he did, and he still didn't kill me." He turns to face Steve, blinking furiously, and says, "I should have died when I fell from the train."

"Don't you  _dare_ ," Steve growls, and the force of his voice catches him by surprise. "I went back to look for you. I searched for days. Didn't eat, didn't sleep. I didn't think life was worth much if you weren't in it. Then you came back, even if you weren't you, and I was so thankful because your body was still here, and that meant your mind would be too. And that was enough."

"I killed people, Steve. Good people. I'm not a kid from Brooklyn any more."

"Neither am I," Steve shoots back. "And I know full well that you're still the kid who'd make me ride everything at Coney Island and only regret it when I threw up on you."

Bucky laughs at that, a genuine, heartfelt laugh, and it breaks Steve's heart to hear. He relaxes into the pillows, curls onto his right hand side, and tucks his metal fist under the hollow of his neck. He looks hugely vulnerable lying there, and Steve doesn't have the heart to move him. He grabs his well-thumbed copy of  _Slaughterhouse-5_ from next to the photo of Peggy with Howard Stark and pretends to read it until Bucky's breaths slow and even out. He doesn't remember falling asleep, but when he wakes he's back in bed, the covers folded gently around him, and Bucky is nowhere in sight. 

~

The second time Bucky and Steve sleep together, Peter Parker is there.

Peter's a good kid, really, and since their battle ended he wants to understand both sides. He doesn't think it's fair to be drafted into battle with only the faintest idea of your enemies' beliefs, so on the advice of Tony, he comes to train on weekends with Clint and Nat, and every so often Bucky joins in. He appears in the doorway clutching a can of Coke, smiling awkwardly.

"Can I join you? Miss Romanov's training with Mr Barton and it seems kind of hardcore, so I didn't want to interrupt."

"Sure," Steve says, swinging his legs off the sofa to make room. "You can call them Nat and Clint, by the way. They're not teachers."

"They kind of are, for me," Peter points out, pausing to sip from the can. "Is Bucky okay? I haven't seen him in a while."

Peter looks too earnest to be lied to. And, when he thinks about it, the kid's old enough for Tony to draft him in to fight. He'll be able to handle the truth about PTSD. "He's... coping. In his own way. I guess you know what he did."

Peter nods. "Yeah, I read the leak."

Steve doesn't know what to make of the fact that this student has managed to read every page of Nat's release, but he chooses not to dwell on it. "He's mostly the same guy I knew, but he's got his own problems. He's on his way back from Wakanda at the moment, speaking to King T'Challa. He granted him amnesty and a formal apology for blaming him for King T'Chaka's death."

"That's pretty neat," Peter says, fiddling with the lining of his fleece. "When's he back? He's cool to train with."

"Tonight. If you call your aunt and tell her you're staying over he'd be happy to help you train tomorrow morning."

Peter ambles away to do so, and Steve take the opportunity to rest his eyes. Between keeping an eye on Bucky's sleep schedule, trying to make amends with Tony, and stopping Scott Lang from making himself tiny enough to crawl through the base to watch Vision cooking from a ceiling tile ( _"how does he do that?!" Scott had asked, "he's literally a robot, how can his tempura look so authentic?"_ ), Steve's been coping on two hours sleep a night. Having Bucky gone hasn't helped either - every night he worried that someone wouldn't have gotten the memo, that he'd be kidnapped or killed outright or provoked into a fight. The thought of having him back within reaching distance is the only thing that's keeping him going. He doesn't mean to fall asleep, but suddenly he's being shaken gently by Peter.

"Sorry, Wanda and Vision made dinner, they asked me to ask you if you wanted any. It's stir fry. We can save you some if you'd rather sleep. Aunt May's letting me stay here tonight, and Sam said if the weather's good we can train outside tomorrow."

Steve smiles sleepily, and cracks open his eyes just enough to see Peter grinning down at him. "I'll have leftovers. Thanks, kid. Let me know when you want me to move. This sofa pulls out, and it's comfier than the bed upstairs."

Peter scampers away, and he falls back asleep to the sound of laughter from the kitchen, safe in the knowledge that Bucky is on his way home. He wakes again to the sound of quiet voices just outside the door to the living room, but only catches snippets of the conversation, and it's all Peter's voice. "... missed you... he said... outside?... nah, he's in... yeah, it's okay..." The door creaks open, and a shadow passes across the foot of the sofa. Steve's too weary to sit up, but the door closes behind whoever enters and they perch at the end of the sofa. A reassuringly cold hand rests on Steve's calf, and he can't fight off the smile.

"Hey, Buck."

"Go back to sleep," Bucky says. "The kid's taking my room tonight. Told him if we moved you you'd snap, being the octogenarian that you are."

This time, when Steve wakes, Bucky is still there. His head is thrown back against the sofa, and the angle is making him snore. Steve didn't know you could feel so much affection for one person. The realisation doesn't surprise him.

~

The third and fourth and fifth time Steve sleeps with Bucky, it's gentle.

The trip to Wakanda was good, because it is one less nightmare for Bucky to torment himself with. It was also terrible, because Bucky hasn't slept in over a week, and now naps whenever he gets the opportunity. Twice now Steve has been cooking for them both only to turn around to see Bucky with his head pillowed in his arms, dead to the world. He's also started sneaking into Steve's room with a sleeping bag he pilfered from Scott, thinking that Steve doesn't know. One night Steve catches him entering, and shifts across the bed to make room.

"The floor's not comfy," he says, praying that Bucky will take him up on it. It's worth the risk when Bucky smiles, because he still rarely does it, and Steve will take anything he can get when it comes to Bucky looking happy. 

It becomes a regular thing: Bucky creeps in at three and leaves at half six. He's stopped taking the floor. Instead, he takes the left hand side and curls in towards Steve, seeking out his body heat. Every so often he'll whimper or thrash, sitting bolt upright and panting with his fists clenched until he regains his bearings. Those are bad nights. On the good nights, he sleeps through without waking. Sometimes he'll oversleep and apologise in the morning, flushing slightly, and it's not a sight Steve recognises - Bucky apologetic, embarrassed. Occasionally Steve will wake up with his hand flung across Bucky's chest, or their hands curled limply around each other's. Most of the time, Bucky's peaceful. More often than not, he smiles.

 


End file.
